


Cold Turkey

by cometthespacerock



Series: Shipmas 2018 [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Hospitals, Husbands, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Shipmas 2018, Singing Boyfs, St. Mungos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometthespacerock/pseuds/cometthespacerock
Summary: Albus’ first Christmas at St. Mungos brings bad memories for Scorpius. Scorpius is reminded of Christmas' past.For Shipmas 2018 Prompt Day 9: Christmas in St. Mungos doesn’t have to be bad





	Cold Turkey

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Littlerose13writes for Shipmas 2018 Prompt Day 9: Christmas in St. Mungos doesn’t have to be bad
> 
> This does include a reference to a character death. Just a warning to those who might need that :)

If one were to ask Albus Potter where he would be a year ago, this is not the case. A year ago he was on stage, _performing_ , and being adored by thousands of fans in crowded stadiums. He would be doing the usual spiel, with his band mates, laughing and joking as his blond beloved would be beside him, kissing him under the mistletoe while his bandmates croon and laugh, glasses of unknown alcohol in their hands.

No, he would not be in St. Mungos on the verge of pleading, to not work the holiday shift. But low and behold, he was stuck in a crammed cafeteria with all other new hires, being lectured about taking off for the holidays. Only those in the higher positions are able, and all else have to pay their dues. Taking off for first years was immediate call for termination. Not even the Potter name could get him out of this mess.

Going from the world of being a rockstar to a healer had brought its challenges. For starters, it brought a long a mess of rebellion and delinquency, and a thin line the Potter boy almost crossed. He found himself threatened with Azkaban, when riots he thought were helpful went astray. It really wasn’t his fault. He knows the riots weren’t his fault. Word of mouth got around, and many who were uninvited got involved and things got messy. But Albus was the easiest face to recognize, so therefore he got a majority of the blame.

From there, he found himself in the difficult position of starting the career he had taken NEWTs for.  With all the drama that had appeared in the last year, Scorpius’ urge to start the next chapter of their lives was a convincing one, one Albus took out of a necessity than a want. The steady career of the healing industry brought a new pride surging through the brunette that Scorpius hadn’t seen since music. It was natural, and he got to see Albus being the geek for once.

Scorpius knew Albus missed music, missed the stage. He knew that high couldn’t compare to others. But for Albus’ health, the change was necessary. Scorpius couldn’t be prouder of his husband, the healer. He was just as proud as his healer husband, as he was of his rockstar husband.  Both brought out the geekiness of Albus that very few noticed, and that Scorpius adored.

The change in schedule was the biggest conflict. Both knew a drastic change would create some drastic problems, but the schedule was the one that both boys could pinpoint as the source of a majority of conflict. Skipping dates because one had to work, or missing important family events because of a schedule were problems that even though Albus couldn’t help, Scorpius grew frustrated with. Even though Scorpius knew Albus couldn’t take the days off, the drastic change of Albus doing whatever he wanted to the change of having to follow a routine was one that even he had trouble adjusting to.

Which is why both were standing in their kitchen weeks prior to Christmas.

“Albie, Dad wants to know what we’re doing for Christmas. He wants to know if he should go to the Burrow, or if he should prepare for a dinner.”

“Can’t. I work the holidays. I’ve already declined the Burrow and the invites from Mum and Dad. Gran was the most appalled, stating that it was cruel of a place to force her grandchild to work on Christmas. But I can’t place a fuss about not working, I’ll get fired.”

Scorpius nods in understanding. “After the year you’ve had, being fired from healing is probably not the way to end the year.”

“But—“ Albus waits for the but. In most recent discussions, there usually is one.

“But it’s _Christmas_. You shouldn’t be stuck in a stuffy hospital on the holidays. You should be at home, with your family.”

“I know,” Albus says glumly. “But tell your dad that maybe we can do a meal the next day. Push it over. I’m off the next day. I also get overtime and holiday pay on Christmas. Besides, I don’t think I can face my family this year.”

Scorpius grabbed at Albus’ wrist. “No, you certainly can. If you can survive Christmas fifth year, then you can survive _anything_. But, I’ll just tell dad to push the dinner over because you have to work. Again,” he said with a slight pout. “I love you,” he adds in a whisper.

“I love you too.” Albus kisses his pouting lips.

Christmas Day brings all the stress of night shifts. There’s limited staff, and limited resources. People are coming in and out, with one bizarre accident after the next. Just before Albus was intended to help out a young witch who had been a part of a dining fiasco, where a slur of potions were mixed in with the gravy, his supervisor caught his shoulder.

“Mister Potter, you can take your break now. There’s a Christmas dinner in the cafeteria.” She gives him a warm look, one that is foreign to him. She reminds him of his old headmistress, stern, but had a warm heart at times. She had hired him despite aware of his past behaviors. Although, he’s sure his score on the entrance examination helped.

The cafeteria is not the most welcoming place. Even at Christmas, the staff tried to make things festive. Families are huddled around their slices of turkey and mash, bottles of pumpkin juice and juice boxes taking the place of fancy glasses that feasts usually would entail. The room is hung with drooping garland and paper chains. All the decorations couldn’t help the cold and sterile feeling of the place.

“Happy Christmas, Albie,” a cheerful voice rings out. He was expecting maybe one of the cafeteria workers to be more enthusiastic than usual, but, the surprise was more than welcome. A tall boy with bright blond hair was sitting at one of the cafeteria tables. He had a silly jingle hat cocked to the side on his delicate locks. He was holding an old wooden acoustic guitar. “Thought you could use some company,” he says, smiling. Although that bright smile dimmers when he looks around the room. “Merlin, who died?” He asks, noticing the less than cheerful look on most of the occupants of the cafeteria.

“It’s a hospital, Scorp. So I expect many.” The small smirk on Albus’ face implies a tease.

“I know, but,” Scorpius starts then stops. He looks around the room, then takes a bite of his moderately warm mash. He pushes the plate back and frowns. “It taste the same,” he mumbles, and a distant look grows in his eyes.

Albus knows that look. Sometimes, Scorpius gets it when he’s lost in thought about his mother. Sometimes, it’s triggered by the smallest of things: a whiff of cocoa, a mother and son. Moments that make the boy yearn for the mother he had lost.

“Was this the same meal?” Albus whispers. He decides not to go into detail. He knows the difficulty of his husband’s mother’s loss. The gap of Astoria was prevalent in all their lives.

Scorpius nods his head. “Mum had to spend her last Christmas here. It was dreadful. I hadn’t been thirteen for long, but I still longed for the Christmas’ of my childhood. Mum went in shortly after we got out second year, being released right before New Years. Dad was persistent that she spent the remaining times at home, sitting in front her garden, watching the critters roam.  Mum loved Christmas,” Scorpius says, and blinks hard. “Her last one was the hardest.” He gulps. “It was boring and long, and Mum insisted we didn’t spend it fussing over her. She made me and Dad wear jingle hats and put paper chains all over her room. When she had her strength, she made a few paper cranes that she’d charm to fly around the room. She tried to keep her spirits up, just so I wouldn’t have to witness her in the worst of states. She was scared the lack of a proper holiday would scar me. All the gifts were at the manor, Mum and Dad didn’t have time to wrap them. We had a proper Christmas when she got out, with lights and gifts. But I remember her one in her room, more. She got Da’ to sing, and Dad doesn’t sing for _anyone_. She told him that she would feel loads better if Dad and I sang to some of the women on her hall, as many of them weren’t very happy to be in a hospital on Christmas. Reluctantly, Dad obeyed and we donned jingle hats and went caroling when Mum was taking her mid afternoon nap. It was a rubbish Christmas, but at the same time it was one of my most memorable. When we finished the rounds of the hall we came back to Mum, and she was feeling more spirited and whispered to me how kind I was, and how proud she was that she and Dad raised such a kind, thoughtful, boy.”

Albus smiles at the image of Scorpius singing carols. His parents were right, he was a kind and thoughtful boy, one who had the purest of hearts. Albus always thought Scorpius would be a far better healer, but Scorpius had other plans in mind. He’d rather help those who couldn’t help themselves—magical beasts. Scorpius was more than happy to tag along on Albus’ band adventures when he could, taking the opportunity to travel and search for creatures he wouldn’t ordinarily get to see. When Albus was forced to settle down, the idea of a small clinic for magical beasts came way. It was a progress in works, but Albus knew Scorpius would achieve it.

“I remember the smiles that were given to me when Dad and I sang to the women on Mum’s hall. Many of them were appreciative of getting recognition for the holiday. So, I talked to your supervisor. We’re going caroling,” Scorpius announces. “Because Mum loved to make others happy, and she would want us to do the same.” As soon as Scorpius mentions it’s for his mum, Albus knew there’d be no way to get out of this. “I brought Woody,” he says, handing Albus his rustic acoustic guitar. “And this,” he goes to plop the jingle hat on top the brunette’s hair.

“Not the quiff,” Albus mumbles, and swats at his husband’s gesture.

Scorpius snorts. “Last year it was the ponytail, now it’s the quiff. Will there ever be a year where you _don’t_ complain about your hair?” An amused smile crosses his lips. Both were upset about the drastic change for Albus’ new career. In order to receive the job, Albus had to undergo a drastic physical change where his trademark long hair and piercings had to be removed, as per uniform requirements. His status of his parentage had no sway in persuasion, as majority ruled it was for the client’s benefit, and to keep the wholesome appearance of the hospital.

Scorpius was the one who had to remain strong, even though he too, mourned his husband’s long locks. He was the one who let Albus cry on his shoulder, and had to be the one to tell Albus it was ridiculous to not take a job, just because of a mandatory appearance change. Despite missing the long hair, he has to admit that Albus looks good with his current style. It’s long enough to messily wear like he did in Hogwarts, but professional enough that he could style in a quiff for work.

“Maybe.” Albus carefully straightens out his jingle hat, cocking it artfully to the side so it doesn’t damage the quiff.

“You are the gayest looking elf I’ve seen,” Scorpius teases and Albus starts to remove his hat when Scorpius stops him. “it’s for Mum, stop.”

“Right. So, what’re we singing? We are _not_ doing the twelve days of Christmas. We’ll be murdered by day four.”

“What about that acoustic rendition you did last year? The one you did in that small club.”

“Oh gods,” Albus laughs. “That thing? Scorp, the lads and I made that rendition up when we were drunk. Ry was higher than a fucking kite and Ash was drunk off gods know what. I don’t think I even remember that chord progression.”

“Try it,” Scorpius persuades. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Albus agrees, and his hands choke the guitar and all feels familiar again.  The chord progression comes back and Albus lets out a cough before starting to sing. The warm tones mix with Scorpius’ own voice and the pair go around to the rooms of various occupants. Scorpius can feel the warmth of his mother as they sing to an elder lady who probably won’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon.

The staff notices and smiles at the pair, nodding approval as they leave the ward to go off to other sections of the hospital. Both sing with all the holiday spirit they could muster, and Scorpius is reminded just how much he loves Albus, and Albus is reminded just how much he loves when it’s the two of them.

“Who says Christmas had to suck in the hospital?” Scorpius whispers, as Albus lets a note ring out loudly for one of the children in the children’s ward. He smiles at his husband, and peck his lips slightly when he notices the mistletoe sprout above their heads. “Happy Christmas Albie,” he whispers softer.

“Happy Christmas, Scor.”

“What’re you doing for New Years Eve?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Feel free to check out my [my writing tumblr](http://spacerockwriting.tumblr.com).


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